


A St. Valentine's Surprise

by MsThunderFrost



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Geralt is #HardToShopFor, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Gift Giving, Hair, Happy Ending, Insecurity, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Long Hair, M/M, Men Crying, Nervous Jaskier | Dandelion, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rings, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22709974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsThunderFrost/pseuds/MsThunderFrost
Summary: “If I was a bandit, you’d be dead.” He grumbles, though there is no real heat in his tone. He takes a couple of the branches that’re tucked away underneath his arm and tosses them onto the fire, “You ought to be more aware of your surroundings.”“Guess I’m lucky that you’re not a bandit then.” The bard laughs, but it sounds broken and hollow to his own ears. “Listen, Geralt, I… do you know what day it is?” He curls his fingers around the hair tie, hiding it from sight.The Witcher stares at him for a moment, his expression utterly blank. Then, when he at last determines that Jaskier’s question is serious, he responds with a mildly uncertain, “...Friday?”“No. I mean, yes, it is Friday, but…” swallowing down the fear that this is a very, very bad idea, Jaskier continues with, “It’s… Valentine’s Day. A Day of Love, so to speak, where you take time to remind your significant other of your affections with gifts, and food, and--,”AKAJaskier and Geralt share their first Valentine's Day together.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 326





	A St. Valentine's Surprise

Jaskier fiddles with the small trinket in his hands. It isn’t much, but… he made it himself, and he hopes that that counts for  _ something _ . 

Over the last several weeks, he’d done his best to scour the town markets and local vendor stands for  _ something _ that Geralt would appreciate for Valentine’s Day, but the White Wolf had proved… incredibly  _ difficult _ to shop for. Jaskier knew next to  _ nothing _ about weapons, aside from the fact that Geralt looked after his with the utmost care, and knew the other would complain that he’d wasted his coin on some impractical little blade with a bejewelled hilt that would glitter magnificently in the sun as the silver  _ bent _ and some monster made them its dinner. So that was  _ definitely _ off the table. Jaskier had also never seen the man wear  _ any _ sort of jewellery, aside from his medallion, so a ring or a necklace or something of the sort was  _ also _ out of the question. 

And the fact that Geralt was so frustratingly  _ selfless _ helped absolutely  _ nothing _ . The man  _ gave _ and  _ gave _ , until there was no coin in his pocket and no food in his belly, and then somehow found a way to give  _ more _ . He asked for absolutely  _ nothing _ in return, and was lucky when  _ nothing _ was exactly what he got. Jaskier had thought he had seen the dark side of humanity, performing for piss-drunk patrons who saw fit to throw food and alcohol and, sometimes, even  _ cutlery _ when a song was not to their liking. But the first time he saw a young woman  _ spit _ in Geralt’s face after the Witcher saved her from a pack of ravenous werewolves… he realized he hadn’t seen, didn’t know,  _ anything _ . Geralt deserved the absolute  _ world _ . He…

He deserves so much more than a lousy hair tie, made of a soft black leather that had, once upon a time, been the same color as Geralt’s armor. The bard had learned rather quickly that leather and water don’t mix--but not quick enough to save his work. He tried to convince himself that the water stains make it look… eclectic. But now, in the bright, mid-afternoon light, he can see the truth. It looks like absolute horseshit. Handmade or not, there’s no way that he can give this to Geralt now. He’d rather face down the Day of Love with nothing to give his significant other than give him something so shoddy. He’s just about to toss the damned hair tie when he realizes he’s not alone. Geralt is standing on the opposite side of the fire, studying him--and the hair tie--curiously.

“If I was a bandit, you’d be dead.” He grumbles, though there is no real heat in his tone. He takes a couple of the branches that’re tucked away underneath his arm and tosses them onto the fire, “You ought to be more aware of your surroundings.” 

“Guess I’m lucky that you’re not a bandit then.” The bard laughs, but it sounds broken and hollow to his own ears. “Listen, Geralt, I… do you know what day it is?” He curls his fingers around the hair tie, hiding it from sight.

The Witcher stares at him for a moment, his expression utterly blank. Then, when he at last determines that Jaskier’s question is serious, he responds with a mildly uncertain, “...Friday?”

“No. I mean,  _ yes _ , it is Friday, but…” swallowing down the fear that this is a very,  _ very _ bad idea, Jaskier continues with, “It’s… Valentine’s Day. A Day of Love, so to speak, where you take time to remind your significant other of your affections with gifts, and food, and--,”

“Hmm…” Geralt nods, taking all of this in, before motioning to Jaskier’s hand. “Does this have anything to do with that hair tie in your hand?”

Jaskier blinks, subconsciously moving his hand behind his back in a belated effort to hide the evidence. “What… What hair tie? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Witcher looks thoroughly unimpressed as he notes, “That thing in your hand, that you’re moving behind your back? If it’s not a hair tie, what is it?”

“Fine. You win. It’s a bloody hair tie.” He exclaims, shoulders slumping in defeat.

“...Okay.” Geralt says, looking adorably confused. “Was it a gift from one of your little…  _ admirers _ ?” Ordinarily, the plain distaste and outright jealousy with which Geralt said ‘admirers’ would be enough to make Jaskier crack a small smile… but not today. “If you truly don’t want it, just get rid of it.”

Jaskier feels a bright stab of  _ pain _ at the thought of Geralt casually tossing his gift aside, as if the time and love he’d spent on it meant  _ nothing _ , just because he didn’t  _ want _ it. “No, I… it’s for you, actually. I noticed your current tie was damaging and breaking your hair. I know that you don’t really… care for your appearance, but I thought a softer tie might make your hair a little bit easier to care for and--,”

_ I want to help ease your burden, even in the littlest, seemingly most inconsequential of ways _ . Geralt hears those words that remain unspoken loud and clear. He hadn’t noticed that his hair tie was damaging his hair, likely because, as Jaskier said, Geralt had never been particularly bothered by his personal appearance. If his hair was damaged, or became a burden in some other way, he’d cut it. If he had not seen his bardling in some time, he’d been known to forget to shave. He wore his clothes until they resembled rags, and then patched them together to wear just a teensy bit more. Most people never noticed. Those few who did generally threw a snide comment or two in his direction, but generally left him to his own devices. But Jaskier… not only did he notice, but he genuinely  _ cared _ .

The little hair tie meant more to Geralt than words could say. He takes it from Jaskier’s hands before the other man can change his mind and try to take it back, “Would you… hmm…” He falls silent, considering his words carefully. “Would you put it in for me?”

Jaskier stares at him for a moment, before hurriedly shaking his head, “G-Geralt, you  _ can’t _ be serious. I can’t let you wear that, it’s absolutely hideous!” 

“But it’s not.” Geralt says simply, “The leather is a bit water-damaged, sure, but I can show you how to restore that. But the craftsmanship… It’s clear as day that a considerable amount of thought and care went into crafting this hair tie, Jaskier.” 

“I-It’s…” tears begin to roll down the bard’s cheeks, much to the younger man’s horror. “I… I’m sorry, I just… I honestly didn’t think that you were going to like it.”

“Well, I do.” The bard snorts, wiping away the tears with the heel of his palm. Leave it to Geralt to be even  _ less _ romantic than usual, on the Day of Love no less. “And I’d like to wear it, so come over here and put it in for me.”

Even though he’d demanded the bard come to him, Geralt takes a seat in-between Jaskier’s legs and presses the tie back into the bard’s palm. “Be still my beating heart… have I ever told you that you have such a magnificent way with words, Geralt?”

“Shut up.” The Witcher practically purrs as Jaskier takes his hair down, gently finger-combing the soft, silver-white locks. “Oh, by the way… I think that you dropped this earlier.” Geralt says. There’s something shiny and bright between his fingers that Jaskier doesn’t recognize.

“I… I don’t think I dropped that.” Nonetheless, the Witcher slides it over his ring finger, and says nothing more about it. 

He stares at the ring for a solid thirty seconds before realizing exactly  _ where _ the Witcher had put it. Is this… Did he… There’s absolutely no way that Geralt could be so aloof as to not know the significance of what he’d just done. Fate could not be so cruel. The ring… it’s absolutely  _ breathtaking _ , a warm rose gold inlaid with tiny flecks of diamond that must have cost Geralt an arm and a leg  _ and _ all of the coin in his purse. His gift seems to small and insignificant in comparison. And yet… when some time has passed and he still hasn’t tied the other man’s hair back, the Witcher turns to him, one thick eyebrow raised. He takes the bard’s hand in his own, running the pad of his thumb over the ring that Jaskier definitely didn’t drop, and says something that makes Jaskier’s tears fall anew.

“It’s not perfect. The sewing is uneven, and its spotted from the water, and one of the tails is longer than the other.” He says, his voice soft. “But none of that matters. What matters is  _ you _ made it for  _ me _ .” He turns back, allowing the other unrestricted access to his hair once more.

Jaskier sniffles, “Yes. Yes, of course.” He makes quick work of tying the other man’s hair back. Once the tie is firmly in place, he notices, with a rush of relief, that the water damage is hardly noticeable. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” Geralt is forever thankful that the bard cannot see the bright, honest smile on his face as he takes his hand and presses a kiss to the brand new ring residing there, “I suppose there are worse ways to spend a Friday evening.”


End file.
